Today at work we were asked to try on some new and different lingerie, so that we’d be able to tell customers more about each product they might be interested in, or had questions about. It was a good exercise in product knowledge. Great, I thought.
I grabbed about eight items of varying degrees of sexiness. For fun. Why not? My colleague did the same.
I have to say, most of the pieces of absolutely gorgeous lingerie was meant for a much younger version of me. A much taller, lankier, bustier version of me. But I complied and ventured forth into the…unknown.
First there was a brick red one piece item of thick lace weave, as well as an accompanying bra-let of the same version. They were not quite for me. Scratchy and awkward, meant for a meatier bust than mine. Oh well.
Next was a delicate onesie, soft pink ruffles with a chiffon rose at the hip. It was cute. It fit nicely. It was completely see-through. I guess if I had a significant other, ‘see through’ wouldn’t matter so much, but I just couldn’t visualize myself romping around my apartment in such a ‘sweet’ piece.
I tried on some very (very) expensive bras that didn’t fit well and that I wouldn’t pay even a quarter of the asking price for. I tried on boy shorts (I like), and silk (can do), and bras that can be worn everyday but have a bit of sass (yesss). All in all, it was a worthwhile assignment in retail comparisons. You don’t always get what you pay for, but a lot of the time you do.
The ridiculously expensive brand was simply uncomfortable but perhaps it was meant to be worn only for, you know, show? Dunno. The regular expensive brand was all quality and comfort. And sometimes the super cheap was really, good enough. At least for me. I mean, my dog is very forgiving, and I feel comfortable romping around my apartment in cotton briefs and a baggy tee. Or nothing at all. Depending on what music is playing.
To be continued…